The idea of a “last chance for success” makes for good drama, but thankfully creativity is far less fickle.
Picture the scene: a reality talent show. One of the contestants is older than the rest and has been designated the ‘been through the mill’ label. They’re hopeful, teetering on jaded. They’re nervous as all hell. They’re about to perform.
“So,” the host asks with a sympathetic head tilt, while the camera gets the contestant’s pale, sweaty face in close up. “What does this mean to you?”
The artist gets tearful. “I’ve worked so hard. I’ve had so many near misses. I really feel like this is my last shot at success. If I don’t get through, that’s it. I’m going to give up!”
This is the point at which you’ll find me screaming at the TV. Because – last chance in the world of creativity? I call bullshit on that notion.
I’m always wondering whether the performer has been coaxed to say this, because these programmes are scripted like soap operas (seriously, want to see emotional arcs masterfully manipulated, watch a reality TV show). But I’m always willing them to say, instead: “What will I do if I don’t get through? I’ll just carry on singing/dancing/acting/writing. Maybe I won’t be famous for five minutes for getting into the live shows. But I’m an artist so feck it, I’m used to rejection. It just makes me stronger. So, I’ll be gutted, sure, but I’ll be fine. And because I love what I do, I’ll carry on doing it one way or another until the day I die. Thanks for asking, Duncan!”
But I suppose that would really lower the stakes, huh?
This affliction of thinking we have missed our chance isn’t even confined to the older artist. I saw an interview with performer Billie Eilish and she told how she watched the show Matilda and it was killing her because she knew she wanted to be onstage and she thought she’d missed her chance. She said: “I remember a tear rolling down my cheek, because all I’ve ever wanted is to be on a stage and have people cheering for me.” She had this thought AT TWELVE YEARS OLD. (Mind you, she is pretty precocious so a Billie Eilish twelve is probably thirty six in regular human years.)
I don’t like seeing the notion of missed chances being perpetuated, maybe because I know it’s an issue that plagues a lot of writers.
Like, possibly, you? Are you afraid you’ve missed your chance? Do you check the age of every author of every book you read or see in the press? If you’re already published, are you working out whether you’ve missed your chance to have a breakout hit, or get a film deal, or win a prize?
This comparisonitis is a problem.
Before I was published. I felt as though I was in a frantic race against time, that I needed to make good on my writing potential before…before what exactly? I don’t think I ever stopped to think about what I was scared of, what it was that was about to expire if I didn’t get there quickly enough. I just knew that I wanted to write a novel, and that ideally I wanted it to to have happened five years previously. Was that too much to ask?
Only once I calmed down did I managed to write my book and only once I wrote my book and got a deal did I see that all the stories that I read in the media about hot new (always seemingly very young and attractive) authors were absolutely not representative of the real world of publishing. I’m not saying we published authors aren’t a gorgeous bunch. We totally are. But many, many MANY authors don’t start writing/get a book deal until they are forty, fifty, sixty or older.
I mean, we’re not trying to get into the Royal Ballet here. Have you missed your chance for (insert own writing goal here)? Well, let’s see: do you have a pulse? Then I’m going with a HELL NO.
But I will say this. You know what none of the frantic age-checking and fretting about missed opportunities does? It does not get your next book written. Imagining that you’ve left it too late does not get you any closer to having your ‘chance’.
Worrying that you have missed your chance is really just an existential form of procrastination.
So own it.
And then get writing.